Dark allure of the betrayal,
Sunk my fear in the stirring night,
For time, would never be loyal,
A scribble of what it is might.
But life, is not the kindest,
Where home are dreams to fear,
And linen that wiped the dry tears,
From praying hands to dying lands.
Hollow of chest
Bullet hole came to follow
A strike from the cowards
Ignites their failure.
An anthem to vow,
“My land is my home”
Became a voice so shallow
Justice but a blind icon,
Words told but a deserted prayer
With eyes sore in a world’s quarrel,
And justice,
A puppet of the mind’s player.
About the Creator
Farah
Hello! I am Farah and I do hope you enjoy all of the writings here! I write for fun sometimes but I do appreciate it if you could spend a time for a reading here. :)
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